


Playing Games

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, evidently I like that aesthetic, topping from the bottom!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:12:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just goes to show that when Sam puts real effort into it, he can make Gene a believer with the greatest of ease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Games

**Author's Note:**

> Offering #1 for Porntober 2015 over at **lifein1973** on **lj**! Just a little bit of toppish from the bottom!Sam, cause the bunny was persistent. I'm pretty sure this was betaed at one point by **talkingtothesky** , but the story languished about on my hard drive for a while and has been revised since then. Any remaining errors are all my fault, as per usual.
> 
> I'm aiming to get four things posted this month, maybe more! I'm going to be doing some travelling in the midst of it all so we'll see what happens.

Sometimes Sam's a romantic, other times he begs like a slut, and then there's those occasions where Gene's left feeling he's attempting to be a filthy mix of the two. Like right now, with him straddling Gene's legs, and Gene buried so deep inside there's only skin between them. Sam's perched atop him, skin warmly damp and flushed with heat, and him just as still as stone until he breathes. He's praised Gene already, worshiped him words more than actions, all of his many assets – how Sam goes for a bloke like him, Gene can't tell.

'You're gorgeous,' he'd whispered, and with such stunning sincerity, light in his eyes and colour in his cheeks, the tip of his tongue flicking between the pink of his lips. Gene has to believe that mouth – he certainly believes that tongue. Sam's done things with it that Gene never could have imagined him doing – and some of them, quite recently. 'You've really no idea how good you make this feel.'

Gene's still aching with pride over that last one, seeing as how (and all because of Sam) he's not really had a chance to do much at all. It just goes to show that when Sam puts real effort into it, he can make Gene a believer with the greatest of ease.

'...you'd do it if I asked you to, wouldn't you?'

How's Sam able to keep talking, when Gene can hardly think? Gene tries to wet his lips, tongue gone somewhat heavy and dry in his mouth. 'Huh?' He'd aimed for 'stern', but doesn't quite succeed – he ought to get marks for trying. All he _can_ manage is 'breathless and confused', and that takes all he's got.

Sam shifts a bit, eyelashes fluttering, eyes brighter, dusky pink across his cheeks and down his neck. 'If I asked you to... you'd do it for me, wouldn't you?'

Gene doesn't know what Sam's getting at, because it's too hot, and Sam's too tight, and what's left of Gene's ability to reason with anything beginning to resemble coherence has dribbled out his ears (the rest has gone south for the winter, or at least until Sam lets him get off, whichever it comes to first). So, growling, because he needs it and he wants it and he doesn't know how else to ask for it, he says: 'If you'll do something other than... than just sit there and keep my todger warm... I'll do whatever you bloody well want.'

When Sam grins like that (wide, sharp, like the edge of a knife), it's dangerous, and Gene loves it more than any sane bloke should – seeing as he's gone and got himself tangled up with his DI of all people, he's certainly less than sane. It makes him want to touch, to curse at Sam to _hurry up already_ , to beg and plead and beg some more, but Sam hardly does anything now that he knows he really has Gene's attention, just gives a little rolling shift of his hips. And even as that one small inch is given, it happens with aching slowness. 

They're playing it Sam's way tonight, from the cuffs to the endless waiting, all the way down, as though Gene's only just seeing how Sam loves to play these games.

' _Shit_.' Gene can't help himself. Between the cold metal round his wrists and the hot body that's got his locked in place, he's a bit too close to overwhelmed for his comfort. Sam's been keeping his hands to himself, so other than where their bodies meet and become one, there's not a whole lot of touching going on – not enough motion, or even _kissing_ , and he never was as fond of kissing as when kissing suddenly involved Sam. All in all, he rather feels out of his depth.

'So you would?' Sam rises up, just a fraction, sinks back down, letting out a delicious moan and licking at his lips, light flashing off the glint of sweat down his neck as he tips his head back. Gene groans, as if in answer, and the flare of unabashed lust that darkens Sam's eyes as their gazes meet again makes Gene that's playing with a mouse, that is, tormenting it mercilessly. Sam does it again, rising, falling, _moving_ , and it's edging too close to too much, but not nearly fast enough for what Gene needs. 'Well?'

Well – _well_? That one word coils about his spine, pulls all sense from the world. ' _Yes_.' He couldn't have given his answer quicker, though the dull thumping of his heart makes it seems like years instead.

'Do you promise?' A repeat of the above, Gene's heart hammering away in his chest, and if this is him admitting to weakness – with his heart thudding double-time in his chest , fit to escape – of course his greatest weakness would be Sam.

' _YES_ , I promise! Now just keep moving, you... you bastard!'

Sam does, flashing a smile that radiates victory, _love_ , and then he gives it his all, up and up and up before he's slamming himself down, whimpering as he finds rhythm in repetition, winding them both down, working them both to an end. Gene doesn't know what he's promised, and he doesn't much care, not as the cuffs clink and Sam clenches about him, crying out his name. That triggers it, and Gene comes with a ragged cry of his own, Sam following him along, not stopping until Gene's cock is so spent, he's sure it's never been that sore.

Sam slumps against him, sated, nuzzling at his throat, touching him, _finally_ , running his hands up and down his arms, neatly avoiding the cuffs. 'Thank you,' he murmurs, and Gene still doesn't know what he's promised to – but, as he says just that, Sam smiles at him as though there's nothing more obvious in the world, and kisses him: gentle, possessive, slow, the sort of kiss that makes Gene believe wholeheartedly that Sam knows he's owned him all along.

'Doesn't have to be specific – it's just the principle of the matter,' he murmurs, and Gene wishes he could slip his arms about Sam now, hug him tight, only Sam seems to have forgotten the cuffs. 'Just needed to be certain, that's all.'

'You're making no sense, Gladys... not that you ever do.' He rattles the metal at his wrists, as if to emphasise the point... though what point he's trying to make, he hasn't quite figured that part out. 'We finished here? Or are you hoping we'll end up glued together...?' Gene waggles one eyebrow. There – he's scrabbling back to the top again, he's the boss here, no matter what games Sam might like to play.

Sam grins, wickedly slow, as as though he needs to think about it, and there's not enough time in all the world. He leans in close, sucks a bruising kiss at the point where Gene's shoulder curves up to his neck, and as Gene groans out and lets his head falls back as one of Sam's hands slides down to where they're still joined, that's when he knows he's well and truly screwed.


End file.
